High School Reunion

High school reunions, frankly, give me heebie-jeebies.

This is a funny statement as I have never been to a reunion before, but I imagine it would be hell.

When I think of the person I was in high school: self-centered, attention-craved, over-involved, 115 lbs of complete self-righteousness, I just want to hide. Let alone, do I want to subject my sweet husband to my former boyfriends (or whatever they were) and cliques? Nah, no way. So, I have opted out of the high school reunion.

Instead of one big event or high school reunion,  I had a series of small reunions. One with Meghan Jones at an amazing Lebanese restaurant in New York City. One with Adam Young at Chesterfield Mall, and Dustin Welbourne another time. These were great little meetings and it was fun to catch up and swap crazy stories about our lives. Dustin has some sweet fashion sense now...and Adam has a beautiful family...adorable.

The reunion with Meghan was especially wonderful...I am so proud of her. We had not spoken for 3 years, not for any reason... just life craziness, and we picked up right where we left off like no time had passed. We screamed like freaks when we saw each other and hugged for at least 20 minutes...in a bar...in front of a lot of people. It was a major Jerry Macguire moment (but happier). Sounds sappy? Because it was! It was great. I wish she lived closer so I could see her face every day.

I remember meeting Lindsay Maheu when I was 14.

We were freshmen in high school and she and I hit it off in an instant. We both had tons of energy and smart-mouths, saracastic humor. And it didn't hurt that she had a fabulous wardrobe. We were both quirky and goofy; we made a good team. I remember hysterically laughing to the point of tears with her in her bedroom about boys, stupid school, Homecoming,  her brother, her crazy parents, my crazy parents, my hair cut, Mr. Chazen, everything.

But over time, we just grew apart, as friends do. She made the Poms squad, which was awesome because she was and is a beautiful dancer. I started running track/cross country, and I was in just about every school play I had the time to audition for...a woman obssessed with theater. So, we just...separated. Like a gradual divorce.

Three years ago, I came across her on Facebook. I friended her, and we got together, with our boys (yes, she has 2 boys, too!) about a week later. And just like with Meghan, we picked up where we left off. And we both had no idea why we stopped being friends in the first place. We decided that was stupid and
ta-da...friends again.

A few months after we started hanging out, Lindsay announced, bravely I might add, that Clark, her oldest was diagnosed with autism as well. This was right after Brody was diagnosed. It was a like a set of dominoes. So, we did what most girlfriends do when faced with challenges with their kids...

We drank wine. A lot of it.

Then of course (after all of the wine) Lindsay got pregnant with baby Margot (a baby girl!!!!) and we postponed the booze and nights out for a bit.

About 3 weeks ago, we met up at the Shaved Duck for a much-needed night out together (you must try this place...the food is incredible and the beer selection...wooo baby! Best dark beer in town). We sat at the bar and ordered junk food like honey and walnut cured bacon and jalapeno shrimp and grits. We chatted it up with all of the bar regulars and Lindsay conveniently knew all of the bartenders...every.single.one of them.

We vented about our insane children and she gushed about her baby girl...we laughed like cackling witches and drank waaaayyyyyy too much beer. In fact, at one point, I told the bartender I needed a bottled water and he handed me a Bud Select. Yep.

We also be-friended a dude named Keenan who was moving to St. Louis from New York City with his young family...a 12 month old and another baby on the way. We gave him daycare advice, baby food recipes and oh, Lindsay gave him all of the numbers for her OG/GYN. It was hysterical. The guy had no idea what/who hit him!

We closed the place down.

The night finally ended with Lindsay doing shots, and I agreed to sign up for more life insurance (she is our insurance agent as well). I would have joined her in the whiskey shots, but I am strictly a beer girl.

Who would have thought that we would re-connect so quickly? At 14, we had no idea that our lives would be so bonded...20 years or so later. That our little boys would share the same challenges and we would share the same gifts.

At the end of the night, I dropped Lindsay off at her classy/chic home next to Tower Grove Park.
She opened my car door, and drunkily (but genuinely) said...

"I am so glad we re-connected..."

I am, too...and who knows what the future holds for our boys. I do know, that Lindsay and I will go through it together. She's my partner in crime, again. And who can ask for more than that?

Oh, and we are going to the next High School Reunion. Armed with our husbands and a flask.

We're Hippies.

This week was nuts. We got a cat, started working from home
and Destin had his first big public hissy fit.

We were at Wal-mart picking out flowers for the front
yard and Destin started asking to "pick out a toy."
I told the kid he got a new video game yesterday and
it just wasn't the time. He said he "didn't love me anymore
and wanted to be sent away." Ouch. This went on thru the checkout
line.

Now, I never flipped out or spanked him (spanking is usually
something I do privately if ever. Public spanking is
humiliating for you as the parent and the child. That is my
Soapbox on spanking in public places) but I was hurt.
Instead of screaming I told him our morning plans
were history. No park as planned and we are going home.

He eventually apologized.

So, I got to thinking about my parenting style.

Pre-autism parenting is different from post autism parenting. My expectations
have changed. I am more accepting. More into spreading
love and closeness and embracing a free spirit...wait...
one second here...

Am I a hippie?

When Destin was born I was so young. And I had no time
or let's be honest, desire to strategize my parenting plan.
When Brody came along, I was focused on balancing
my love between the two boys. And making sure Destin
felt included in this new journey.

Destin was and still is super smart. When he was reading at
3, I was ecstatic and sure he was a future member of Mensa.
I had sky high expectations and he was meeting them with his
intelligence.

Now since Brody's diagnosis, I have felt a strong shift
in my parenting. First, my expectations have changed.
When Destin told me a few years ago that he wanted to be
a NASCAR driver, I was thrilled! He was dead serious.
He was dreaming. So instead of trying to talk him
into Med School, I celebrated his dream with excitement.
And tickets to his first race. The Pre-ASD mom would not have
reacted this way.



With Brody, the word is "acceptance." we accept
Brody for who he is. I remember saying this the minute he was
born. He was born covered head to toe in baby fur!
I took one look and said "we'll take him!!! He is mine!"
And that message has not changed. So parenting with
acceptance tests you. Every day is a new challenge.
Each day I take in the love, the fits, the joy, the terror,
everything. Then I try to make sense of it and make
the best choices possible for the boys.

Here we go again...hippies...good grief.

Moral to the story...love and be grateful for your kids.
Yes, they throw fits and need discipline but really
they do these behaviors because they want to be heard.
Kids will take attention in any form from yelling to loving.

Take it from this hippie, lay the foundation with acceptance
and watch your child take flight.

Now Entering: The Shrink

Before I got married, I thought only crazy people or drug addicts saw Therapists or Counselors. I was pretty judgemental about people who needed help.

"Well, I'll never need therapy. I am fine. FINE.." and "Therapy is for junkies and/or losers."

That was my attitude. But then someone very close to me, a good friend, had to ask for help. She had to reach out before it was too late. Or before she fell off the deep end, literally. And my idea of therapy changed in an instant, it changed with one late night phone call. That "help" saved her life and brought her back to us. And to this day I can laugh with her, talk with her and sit back and watch her amazing new life with her new family..she is living her dreams. How many of us "normal" people can say we "live our dreams" everyday? None of the amazing things in her life would have happened if she didn't ask for help. She wouldn't be here.

So, my opinion changed.

Earlier last year, right around the time of Brody's first IEP meeting, I found myself in that same boat. I had to ask for help. I was to the point where I could not attend IEP or school meetings for Brody without weeping afterwards (or during). I couldn't talk about his diagnosis, without getting emotional. I was angry at parents who had "normal" kids..I wore sunglasses a lot so people wouldn't see me cry at birthday parties and baseball games, and I would think..."Why does their little boy blow out the candles and not my baby?"
I couldn't face it. And I did not want to just pop pills, or start drinking heavily, and not give a shit. I didn't want to check out and disappear.

I wanted to give a shit.

One morning I decided to search online for profiles of Family Therapists.

My criteria:
1.) We needed a guy. Destin and Brody both respond better to male figures...probably because of how awesome their dad is, that is my theory.
2.) Someone who is open-minded and loving to children.
3.) Knowledge of and experience with Autism.
4.) Patient and calm.

I searched for a few hours online and found Bryon. I read his profile, and called him. We spoke for about an hour, sort of like a job interview. He was a Counselor at a local alternative high school for kids with special needs (talk about open-minded). He worked mainly with older kids, ages 14-19. And the majority of them, you guessed it, had spectrum disorders.

He talked about a boy he was working with now, who is 17, and has autism. He said his case is very severe (doesn't speak, not potty trained, etc.), but the trick (if you will) is focusing on the rewards you get from the relationship with kids with special needs. Not what "society" says we should get out of it. He said the relationship he has with this teenager, is one of the most rewarding relationships he has had in his entire life. Powerful. I especially liked the fact that he works with older children with autism...as I am sure you can tell from this post, that is really the heart of my sadness with Brody. It's birthdays...Brody getting older and not knowing what is going to happen to him and his development.

Bryon also explained that when a child is diagnosed with Autism, "the whole family is diagnosed, like an addict. The whole family becomes addicted, too."

He was making some serious sense. And he met all of my criteria. Everything from the calming voice to his expertise in Autism. Bryon was a perfect match.

So, I made an appointment.

At the first appointment, we all went. The whole fam damily. We all sat in his office; we looked a little like "Motley Crue.." but without the hairbands, but just as chaotic. Matt was head-to-toe in Harley apparel and boots, and his huge beard, I was in a dress and heels, Brody in sweats and Destin neat and tidy from head to toe. And we just got to know each other...asked a lot of questions. Bryon and Destin really hit it off, from the get-go. Brody jumped on his lap. It was a win-win.

Matt however, wasn't sold. After the meeting, he asked if he could maybe...not go? He really didn't feel the connection, but would go if I wanted him to.. Matt has already "grieved" for Brody's diagnosis. He did this early. It was fast and accute and intense, but it ended. But I am still not there, yet. My grief is lingering.

I see Bryon about 1-3 times a month. Sometimes Destin is with me, sometimes Brody is with me. Sometimes, like yesterday, I go alone. He also has an open call policy. I can call him when I need to, without an appointment. I've done this about 3 times. There will be an incident, and I will need some strategies on how to handle the situation...like an IEP meeting, rough day with Brody/Destin, or even a rough day at work (my old job that is, my new job is amazing).

So, the take-away from this little post today is, ask for help. You can't do it alone. Whether it's addiction, divorce, illness, whatever, you need an objective and calming presence in your life to keep you sane. And to see what is really important. I will find myself in a hard situation and will repeat Bryon's strategies and advice in my head. It helps. Friends are amazing, too and I have learned a lot about why certain people enter or
re-enter your life...that is a story for another post, another time.

Yesterday, I asked Bryon..."So, am I emotionally stable...? Do you have a sane client on your hands?"

"Yes, Cassie...(and he laughed) you are fine. You're mom."

I like that.

Don't Ask Unless You Want the Answer

Brody's last day of preschool ever was July 11th...I could not believe it. His teachers literally became members of our family. I loved all of them and on the last day, Brody gave his teacher a big kiss and a hug. I missed it...but Matt witnessed the whole thing. He said it was incredible. All we really want for Brody is to be accepted. And his teachers really, really loved him. I still keep in touch with them and we have a Ted Drewes date planned, soon.

A big part of this whole transition is...drumroll...kindergarten.

I've observed Brody's new kindergarten twice now, and I am definitely getting used to the idea of him being "school age." However, kindergarten for kids with special needs is quite different than what we experienced with Destin. It's not that it's bad or whatever, it's just...well...different. I can't think of a better word for it.

For example...there is a lead teacher for the class, but then each child has their own Resource Teacher. I requested that Brody have a male teacher...he is a "performer" and definitely shows off for men more than women. We tend to get more out of him if men are involved, or his brother. Funny huh? But it's true.

Next, most of the kids in his class are actually older. There are about 3 other kindergartners in the class and the rest are between 9-11 years old. So, that took some getting used to. At first it really bugged me..."where are the other 5 year olds? Will he be with peers? What is this? Will he get bullied by the big kids?"

It turns out Brody will spend about 20-40% of the week with his "GenEd" class (that is what they call "mainstream") in a typical kindergarten classroom. I also observed that class and it was like walking into the Twilight Zone. Seeing typical kindergarten and then Brody's kindergarten was quite a shock. Not bad, not sad, just again, extremely different.

The second time I came ot observe Brody's class I really got to know his teacher, Maura. She is fabulous. She is extremely energetic, funny, tough, goofy, and frankly, pardon my French here, but

She. knows. her. shit.

I loved watching her with the kids; I think she and Brody will hit it off for sure. She also had a perfect sense of humor...I mean, you really have to when you spend day in and day out with kids with special needs. Some things they do and say, is just extremely funny. I've learned this from being with Brody, you just laugh or cry. I choose to laugh...usually.

While visiting on this one particular day, I spent about an hour in Brody's soon-to-be classroom. I was sitting there in one of the little kiddo chairs and started chatting with one of the Transition Specialists at Parkway, her name is Kristen (she was wonderful, too....and she is in love with Brody. It helps when the resource people genuinely get along with your kid and with you...wow, does it make a difference to have some chemistry). I started asking questions, that in my gut, I knew I shouldn't be asking. But then I heard myself say it out loud...

"So, what's going to happen when Brody is in High School?"

"You want to know?" Kristen asked.

I nodded. But then regretted it.

"Well, they are in a small group or class. They start out learning how to  basic self-care skills, tie their shoes, etc. depending on their ability level. And sometimes we take them out into the community to the grocery store or a restaurant so they can learn how to make change, order from a menu..."

My eyes glazed over and I immeditately had visuals of those busses at Wal-mart and McDonalds, and the groups of special needs individuals with their helpers. They can't speak, and they can hardly walk. And the helpers are holding their hands as they shop the aisles and laugh excitedly in the checkout line. I saw a flash of Brody's face in that group.

Kristen went on..."We also do some job training, like how to use a mop, broom, vaccum..."

Again, that flash of Brody's future. He is wearing a fast food restaurant uniform and sweeping a floor.

I told her she could stop. I had enough.

The visit ended and as I got in my car, I was overwhelmed with thoughts about Brody's future. Sure, we are in kindergarten now, but I am going to blink and he will be 15...is that what we have to look forward to? Making change and using a mop? Is that all?

But really...who are we to say what success in life is? It's up to Brody...and I cannot judge his happiness.

Eventually I came down to earth and realized that...I really should not have asked. I really didn't want the answers yet. I shouldn't have gone there. I don't have to right now. Right now, it is time for kindergarten. It's not time for a learners permit. It's time to get excited about his first year as a "Big Kid."

Love you, Big Boy.
-Mom.